


Lunch In Hong Kong

by Lion_owl



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s04e10 Our Man Bashir, Ethics, For the most part at least, Garak POV, Happy Ending, Holodecks/Holosuites, Julian gets to narrate for a very small bit in chapter 2, M/M, Morality, Post-Episode: s04e10 Our Man Bashir, Spies & Secret Agents, a bit angsty, people don't know how they feel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 12:13:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8800411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lion_owl/pseuds/Lion_owl
Summary: The day after the entire escapade with the senior crew becoming holodeck characters and Julian destroying a simulated version of Earth, he and Garak finally sit down and talk about the problems they’ve been having.





	1. Pre-episode/intro

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of people see this episode as nearing the end of their friendship but every time I watch it I can’t help but see it as that they’ve had problems which they are about to begin solving. I’ve been itching to write this for a while.
> 
> I’ve been wanting to write them discussing a novel and tie it in with the plot for a long time and I’m really pleased that I’ve finally managed it. I also find Garak quite difficult to write and am pleased with how he turned out

Garak was anxious. He didn’t get that way very often, in fact he almost never got that way, except for when he was trapped in a small space with no visible escape route. But as he stood outside the holosuite, ready to step into a simulated Earth and a simulated flat in an area known as Hong Kong, he was decidedly anxious.

There was also a shade of jealousy in play – an emotion he _was_ familiar with, although he was not used to being jealous of a _computer._ But there he was. For more than a fortnight, Doctor Bashir had been holing himself up in here every free moment he had, it seemed. Whenever he wasn’t on an away mission, in Ops or in the Infirmary, if Garak asked the computer to locate him, the response was always the same: one of the holosuites. It had been even longer since he’d gotten a chance to speak to Bashir, and it had all started three weeks ago…

_They were having lunch at their usual table and the replimat was almost empty. Quark was throwing a party for some occasion or other so most people were over there at his bar, and the replimat was almost empty. Garak preferred it that way – he hated noise and crowds in general, but there was also the fact that with the exception of one depressed-looking Bolian and a group of four Vulcans sitting at a table across the room, all of whom were very quiet, they were alone, and it was therefore the closest they had ever come to eating in one of their quarters – something Garak wanted very much but didn’t dare suggest for fear of giving Bashir the wrong idea._

_I mean, imagine if someone thought he was in love with him? How ludicrous would that be? But the problem was: he_ was _in love with him, and sometimes he got the impression that the dear Doctor felt the same way._

_“Garak, are you listening to me?” Bashir was waving his hand in front of Garak’s face, and he realised he’d been lost in his own thoughts._

_“My apologies, Doctor,” he said with a self-depreciating smile. “I’m just tired.”_

_“In the middle of the day?”_

_“I haven’t been sleeping well lately.” Nobody needed to know why._

_“Want me to give you a check over, make sure it’s not a symptom of a larger problem?” Bashir offered._

_“That will not be necessary,” Garak said. “Did you really expect me to accept that offer?”_

_“Of course not, but did you expect I wouldn’t make it regardless?” Bashir countered._

_“I should be getting back to my shop,” Garak changed the subject. “I have a woman coming to collect her wedding dress in less than fifteen minutes.”_

_“Shall I come with you?” Bashir offered. “I don’t have to be back on duty for another hour.”_

_“A rare occurrence” Garak remarked. Lately it had seemed like his friend was never not busy with work, and their lunches together had become less regular._

_“I’ll take that as a yes.”_

_They got up and replaced their plates in the replicator, and as they walked across the promenade, Bashir resumed their conversation._

_“So as I was saying,” he was gesturing emphatically with his hands again. “The book looks at the war between good and evil that rages within us, none of that soppy Human romance you hate so much. I really did think you would have enjoyed it. I’ve heard people say that Dr Jekyll represents good while Mr Hyde represents evil, but in my opinion, Jekyll is more like somewhere in the middle of the scale. Hyde is pure evil, for sure, but though Jekyll’s intentions_ start out _good, he_ enjoys _becoming Hyde to the point that it destroys him.”_

_“Is that so?” Garak asked. He’d read the book cover to cover in a few hours, but it confused him. Human ethics could be so convoluted – sometimes things just were what they were, and Bashir in particular seemed to have a difficult time accepting that. “I wonder, what did this Jekyll intend to do if his experiment had been successful?”_

_Bashir’s brow furrowed. “How do you mean?”_

_“His initial idea was to separate each individual into two individuals – the so called ‘good’ side separated from the so called ‘evil side’. If he had succeeded, what did he intend to do with all those freshly made beings of pure evil? If he rounded them all up and killed them, that wouldn’t exactly fit his description of ‘good’.”_

_“Exactly my point!” Bashir held his hands up in the way Humans were wont to do when they had achieved something. “The portrayal of evil is simple, but the portrayal of good is far more ambiguous – there cannot be such a thing as pure good, whatever way you look at it.”_

_Garak studied his friend’s face for a moment while he decided how to respond, and for the first time it really struck him that the immature and naïve young man he’d first met was gone. They had reached his shop, and he entered the code to let them in, and made his way to the back room as Bashir followed._

_“Don’t you agree?” Bashir tried to prompt an answer from him, but his tongue was tied. The naïve young man was gone, but Bashir was still here. Still talking to him, and alone behind closed doors with him so apparently still trusting him. Perhaps there was hope for them after all._

_And with that thought, he made a decision; it was an instantaneous decision and given even a few extra seconds he would probably have rejected it and stayed where he was and not been left having to regret it. But as it happened it was too late: he had crossed the room and pushed Bashir the metre between him and the wall, his whole body lined up against that thin frame, and kissed him. For a moment there was tension but then it disappeared as Bashir melted into the kiss and opened his mouth to Garak’s tongue, his momentarily flailing hands landing on Garak’s shoulders as he steadied himself and Garak finally understood the Human concept of bliss._

_But all too soon the tension was back and it was over and Bashir was struggling to get out so Garak stepped back to let him and with a startled and confused sputter of disconnected words he backed out of the door and was gone, and it took every ounce of Garak’s energy not to sink to his knees._

Four days of being avoided later, Garak had paid a visit to the infirmary. Bashir had been there and seemed willing to talk, but they’d barely gotten beyond a polite greeting when his comm badge had chirruped and Major Kira had announced he had a message from someone named Felix waiting for him in his office, and with a mutter of ‘thank god for that,’ Bashir had disappeared behind a locked door and not long after that the almost incessant holosuite visits started and Garak hadn’t heard from his friend, or possibly ex-friend, since.

Yesterday, he’d thrown all his cards on the table and decided to find out exactly what was going on in there. It hadn’t ended in as much of a fiasco as Garak had expected it would, and it hadn’t signified a definite end to their friendship; hence, he now stood outside the holosuite, ready to step – welcomed this time – into a simulated Earth and a simulated flat in an area known as Hong Kong, and he was decidedly anxious.

He took a deep breath as the door swished open to admit him.


	2. Post-episode

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I shouldn't be doing this now because it's nearly 0300 here but it was swimming around in my head and I couldn't sleep so here is chapter 2. Prepare for plenty of angst and emotion. On the plus side, the quicker I get this done, the quicker I can get Neutrinos In Bloom done as well, I'm just glad I don't have work in the morning.

The view really was beautiful, Garak noted. He was standing at the window of Bashir's holographic living room looking out over the lights of the darkened streets. Cardassia did not have many hills or mountains, and tall buildings just weren't built, so this Urban landscape was new – and alien – to him.

And it was as beautiful as the man standing beside him, standing in silence that was part comfort because they didn't have to confront the issue at hand, and part awkward because the issue really, really needed resolved.

The issue, or as Bashir had so quaintly put it, the 'elephant in the room'. Garak didn't know what an elephant was, but it didn't sound like something you wanted in a room full of delicate glassware and other expensive-looking objects. Time to eliminate the elephant, then.

"So you finally got to kiss Ms Dax; even if it wasn't precisely _Dax_."

Bashir snorted. "I was over Jadzia a very long time ago. That's not why I did what I did."

Humans and Trill had very different ideas on first-name usage than Cardassians did, so Garak knew it was irrational, but he wanted to wince when he heard Bashir refer to her as Jadzia.

"Kiss the woman, get the key. Yes, I know. And that Colonel Komananov?"

"Again, just playing the role."

Bashir sounded a little exasperated, which Garak didn't think was entirely fair. "There seems to be a lot of that," he commented. "This programme is full of women for you to become involved with."

"Blame Felix for that," Julian sighed. "When I asked him to create the programme for me he based it off a centuries-old novel series which is infamous for its objectification of women. Unfortunately he didn't have time to create a series from scratch in the time that I asked him to, but to be fair to him at least he designed it in a way which makes fun of said series, and it served my purpose, so..." Bashir drifted off – he must have realised he was on the verge of a rambling monologue, or perhaps he hadn’t thought of the rest of what he was going to say.

"And what was your purpose, exactly?" Garak asked, uncertain that he wanted to hear the answer.

"To figure out how I feel about you."

Garak felt his heart sink. He'd hoped that some point throughout the duration of this conversation, Bashir would tell him that he was madly in love with him and had been for years; that would soften the blow when Garak made the very same admission. But if Julian had only just started seeing him that way...

"Of course," Garak acknowledged the statement with a neutral tone. "You thought you were, what's the word?" He paused for emphasis. "Straight. Many of the novels you've recommended to me have highlighted the fact that Human culture has a presupposition that men would be attracted to women, and vice versa, and a tendency to look down on those who don't conform to this standard."

He was aware that he may have come across as a little snobby then, but frankly the entire concept of defined sexuality was absurd.

"Had." Bashir said.

"Had what?" Garak asked.

"Human culture _had_ that presupposition and it _had_ that tendency, as well as a whole host of other bigoted and prejudiced views of which we're not proud. They are an embarrassment to our history, but those things haven't been a problem for centuries. Nowadays, nobody gives it a second thought."

Garak thought he was done and was about to respond when Bashir spoke again: "I'm bisexual, anyway. I thought you already knew that."

That was probably true. He personally had never witnessed an incident surrounding Humans and sexual labels, but then to be fair he had also never been overly involved with any Human... until now. It was a relief at least to hear that Bashir could be attracted to men and was comfortable and sure about it.

"So what exactly is the problem?" He asked.

 

**♦**

 

How could he explain it without offending Garak? They seemed to be making progress here and it was Julian's fault it had got so bad to begin with. He didn't want to make things worse.

He didn't know exactly when he'd fallen in love with Garak, but he had thought that Garak was just in it all for the company and perhaps the occasional flirting. He didn't think anything between them was serious, but then Garak had unexpectedly kissed him – and fuck, it was a good kiss – and suddenly everything felt serious and real, and he hadn't known how to react.

His doubts stemmed from the incident with the malfunctioning implant. He'd always known Garak liked to have fun with the truth and he didn't know how much of the stories he'd told had had elements of truth to them, but they were stories of other people, of other lives, so when Garak had reach out he'd held his hand and when Garak had asked for his forgiveness he'd given it freely and been _so bloody sure_ of himself, but then, when he'd met Enabran Tain, the murky waters had turned the deepest grey and he had started questioning everything.

Since then he'd put a mental distance between his sense of morality and his friendship with Garak, and it was all okay. It was okay when Garak had represented the villain in his telepathically-induced hallucinations because it didn’t _really_ mean anything in the _real_ and it was okay when Garak had tortured Odo, because he had felt so immensely guilty about it afterwards.

But then Garak had unexpectedly kissed him and suddenly it all felt real and nothing was okay.

At this moment, all he was certain of was that he wanted to...

 

**♦**

"So what exactly is the problem?" Garak asked; the minutes that passed felt like an eternity and he was beginning to think that Bashir was never going to respond. Maybe he wouldn't, maybe he would run away again and they'd avoid each other until one or both of them left the station to escape the pain of it all.

But Bashir did exactly the opposite, he stepped inside Garak's personal space – not that Garak minded one bit, despite knowing that he should – and leaned towards him, hovering very near his face.

It would be a mistake, they needed to talk this out until there was nothing left to say; but his proximity was intoxicating and it was difficult to resist the urge to close the very small gap between them. It was a tense kiss, perhaps the most tense kiss Garak had ever shared with someone – not that he had all that many to choose from – but it spoke volumes: whatever reservations Julian had had, he had either overcome them or had decided that he didn't care.

No, no, no. They needed to talk. It took everything he had to take a step back but somehow he managed it, and when he opened his eyes he noticed that Bashir's pupils had dilated to the point that their beautiful brown colouration had been reduced to a barely visible thin line; both of their breaths were ragged and Garak had to turn away to recover enough to resist the temptation to push him against the wall and fuck him as hard as he wanted and just entirely forget to consider the impact it might have on their relationship, or whatever aspect of their relationship was still salvageable.

"I'm so sorry," Bashir's voice was quiet. "That was unbelievably irresponsible of me."

Garak wasn't sure if the fact that Bashir had said that was a good thing or not.

"Doctor, I..."

"Please, call me Julian."

Garak's eyes widened "Do you know what that means to a Cardassian?" He asked. "No, I can't call you that just yet."

Julian didn't – no, _Bashir_ , he corrected himself, he couldn't afford to start thinking like that just yet – Bashir didn't specify whether or not he had known the significance of that statement before making it. Instead, he went over to the counter and poured himself a glass of champagne. "Want anything?" He asked, and Garak shook his head.

"Not from the bar. I'd like to know why all of the hours hiding in here, why this programme?"

"I think I owe you that much," Bashir looked thoughtful. "Do you remember what I told you about my character yesterday?"

"That he's a spy?" He'd said many things, but that one seemed to be the most pertinent. Then, it dawned on him... "that that made him far more disreputable than a rich dilettante with a fascination for women and weapons." That hurt. "Is that how you see me?"

Bashir looked shocked and shook his head. "No, shady ethics or not I think you're a far better person than James Bond."

"Who?"

"The character this programme is based on; sorry, I forgot I hadn't mentioned his name."

"But you have a problem with my so-called shady ethics." It wasn't really a question, and Garak felt a small knot of anger beginning to grow in the pit of his stomach and mentally slapped himself for letting his judgement become so clouded by his feelings for this man. He tried to think of sharp retort, but nothing came to him. "I should have realised."

"Garak, you, I, when you, I mean, it's just..." Bashir spluttered, and Garak waited patiently for him to form a coherent sentence. "I love you."

He wasn't expecting that at all. Was it meant to soften the blow? They'd discussed ethics and morality countless times and Bashir could have used any one of those occasions to come to terms with the fact that Garak had been brought up with a very different view than he had but instead he had spoiled the words Garak had been longing to hear by saying them while they were tangled up in _this_ mess.

"So you had this Felix fellow write you a dreadfully inaccurate spy holo-programme so you could, what?" He knew he sounded cold, and he tried to not let himself care about that, or let himself be bothered by Bashir's disappointed reaction, presumably to Garak's lack of responding in kind to the confession he had just made.

“I thought we had both learned things from each other yesterday, about spies and the accuracy of this programme, and all that. Believe it or not, spies exist in all cultures, not just that of Cardassia!” he snapped.

Garak didn’t know how to respond to that; Bashir was right, he _had_ learned something from the events that occurred yesterday. For one, he’d learned that he’d sorely underestimated this man. But he wasn’t ready to concede to anything at this moment so instead he tried a different tack:

“And that book, the one about Jekyll and Hyde?

“What about it?” Bashir deadpanned.

“You were the one who was telling me that you didn’t agree with common interpretation because the entire concept of ‘good’ was ambiguous if it was to make any sense at all.”

“There’s ambiguous, and then there’s you.” He was pacing the room now, his drink untouched and still sitting on the counter of the bar.

“So the holo programme is to assess how much of a good person I am?” he asked, trying to figure out if there was a compliment anywhere in all of this. He didn’t think so, but at any rate he couldn’t trust his own judgement on that because he wanted there so much to be one – he couldn’t stand the thought of this man having a negative view of him no matter how well deserved it may be.

"I had to sort things out in my head," Bashir protested weakly. “Holo novels are a perfectly valid method, it doesn’t matter exactly how well the content matches!” Bashir’s voice had risen several decibels and he was close to shouting.

"But you're still judging things by Human standards – and Human standards that are almost half a millennium old, as well!"

"Should I have written to Enabran Tain instead?" Bashir asked, completely coolly, and Garak had to remind himself that his friend didn't know half the reasons why he shouldn't have said that, and that _didn't_ have to be another problem.

Then, with no prior warning, all of the fight visibly seeped out of Bashir, who _drooped,_ and he went to the couch and flopped down ungracefully. Suddenly he looked like a small, frightened animal, and immediately all Garak wanted was to make Bashir feel better, at any cost to himself. He went over and sat beside his friend, leaned back on the sofa and wrapped an arm around him, placing a hand on Bashir's shoulder and pulling him close so Bashir's head rested on his own shoulder. An intimate gesture, but Garak no longer had it in him to think of it as a possible mistake.

Then Julian began to shake.

"Doctor, are you okay?" He asked, alarmed and suddenly alert.

"No," Bashir's voice came out surprisingly high-pitched.

"Should I call the infirmary?" Garak asked.

"No. It's called crying, it's a natural reaction for Humans when we're upset."

He may as well have driven a knife into Garak's heart. He felt like it was all his fault. That wasn't true, he knew that, Julian was as much responsible for the entire situation as he was, but reminding himself of that didn't help.

"I love you too, Julian," he said quietly. His friend's head whipped up, and he thought perhaps the alarming crying phenomenon would cease but instead it increased and Garak was thoroughly confused... and scared.

"It can happen when we're happy as well," he explained, as though reading Garak's thoughts. "Okay, it's more of a response to intense emotion than sadness specifically," Julian added – yes, he was Julian now, Garak was sure of it.

"Does it happen often?" Garak asked, his fear fading, but the concern remained.

"Varies by person," Julian said between shakes. "To me, not so much."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"It will subside. Just – hold me, please?" Hesitation. And then: "Elim."

And he did, raising his other arm to Julian was completely encircled in his embrace, and one of Julian's arms fell across his chest, and it all felt alright.


	3. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If chapter 3 hadn't been posted when you read chapter 2, re-read the last few lines because I added something I think is rather important...

“So much for lunch.” Garak noted, “that was our intention in coming here, after all.”

They were still sitting on the sofa, and it was light outside now, the timeframes of the programme being completely disjointed from the real world, of course.

Julian laughed. “We needed to air all of that dirty laundry. Besides, we can’t eat holographic food anyway.”

“Dirty laundry?” Garak cocked his head. “Yesterday it was raining on your parade, today it’s elephants in the room and dirty laundry. None of these things seem relevant.”

“Humans are full of weird and wonderful phrases and figures of speech, aren’t we?”

He had to give him that one. “Are you going to tell me what an elephant is?”

“It’s an animal that originates on Earth. I’ll show you a picture when we – ” all of the colour drained from his face. “Shit. Computer, what time is it?”

“The time is fourteen fifty-two hours,” the mechanical voice told him.

“Our holodeck time ended seven minutes ago.”

“Odd, that Quark hasn’t kicked us out yet.”

“We’d better leave before he starts trying to charge us for a second hour,” Julian suggested, and Garak was disappointed.

“Perhaps we could book the next hour?” He hadn’t wanted to admit it, but despite all the aspects of the programme he’d perceived as flaws, there was one thing he couldn’t deny: “You are quite an attractive secret agent.”

“I _thought_ you thought that,” Julian smiled widely. “Yesterday when I said he’d be back and you – ”

Ah yes. Completely despite himself, Garak had made a ‘hmm’ noise with his throat and the prospect of seeing more of this side of his beloved. He’d kicked himself for it afterwards, and hoped Julian hadn’t noticed.

“I’m afraid I happen to know Keiko and Miles have this suite booked from fifteen hundred, besides,” he reached up and stroked the ridged connected to Garak’s ear with his fore and middle fingers. “I don’t want to kiss all these women the programme will throw at me, and I don’t think you want to watch either.” His mouth was near Garak’s neck, his breath hot on the sensitive ridges there. “Why don’t we go back to my quarters for lunch and I’ll have the Chief remove them from the story for the next time we visit?”

He liked the sound of that. He liked the sound of that very much indeed. He was also very aware of what was going on and did not like the thought of Chief O’Brien or his wife walking in on them if they…

“Let’s go. Now.”

They were up and out of the door, Julian commanding the computer to end the programme. They exited the bar through the second level – less likely to run into Quark that way – and made their way down to the habitat ring at a brisk pace, anticipation abound, and in no time at all he was being pressed against the wall in Julian’s quarters, the door locked behind them.

“I’m glad I don’t have to be back at the Infirmary this afternoon,” Julian said, his voice a whisper, his lips ghosting near Garak’s but not quite touching, and every time Garak moved closer he moved back, teasing.

“I should be reopening the shop,” instead he brought his hand up to the back of Julian’s neck to keep him there. “But this is far more enjoyable.”

Julian’s hands were under his shirt, they were warm on his stomach scales, caressing gently, and Garak shivered with delight. Something hard pressed against his thigh, and Julian’s pupils were dilated again, but this time there was no reason for them to stop.

Garak could feel the Human’s rapid heartbeat against his chest, and Julian brushed his nose against Garak’s twice before finally allowing their lips to meet.

It was tender at first, gentle. But the heat ramped up and kiss became fast and desperate, and they didn’t separate as he backed Julian in the direction of the bedroom, tearing off their clothes indelicately as they went.

Julian may yet come to regret this, and a small part – a very small and outspoken part – of Garak’s mind was telling him to call a halt to it and get out of there. But that was the part that had been shaped and moulded in Tain’s image. That was the part that Garak had been ignoring ever since he decided to make his introductions that day in the replimat, and had no intentions to start listening to it now, now that he finally had this impossibly, extraordinarily beautiful man, naked in his arms and trembling with desire.

No, Garak had no intentions of letting this wonderful thing he had be lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much for lunch!

**Author's Note:**

> I am aware that the timing of this story conflicts with the Julian/Leeta relationship but it's not exactly an over-emphasised relationship and I really really want to write this so I've decided to ignore it. Leeta was waaay cuter with Rom anyway. Just pretend her first DS9 relationship was with Jadzia or someone idk.


End file.
